CHAPTER FOURTEEN
1:30 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
The Oval Office
The White House, Washington DC
“Madam President, this is my resignation letter.”
Susan sat in a high-backed chair, staring up at Chuck Berg, who stood near the double doors. He was big, and there had always been something boyish and awkward about him. It wasn’t his physicality—like most Secret Service agents, he had been a standout athlete as a young person. It was just that, despite everything, he had always seemed somewhat apologetic, as if he never really felt he deserved his role.
Theoretically, they were having a working lunch in the Oval Office. It felt more like a bunker at the end of a world war. And they were on the losing side.
Forty-five minutes ago, just after the shooting outside the White House gates, Hal
